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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25063846">Time and Tide Waits for No Man</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalekenobi/pseuds/generalekenobi'>generalekenobi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, CommanderFoxWeek, Espionage, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Mind Control, No Beta We Die Like Clones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:00:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25063846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalekenobi/pseuds/generalekenobi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He types in the date. Primeday, the first of Firstmonth.</p>
<p>And then he pauses.</p>
<p>He checks the day on his datapad and smiles. Primeday, it reads. He almost doesn’t notice the second bit, written out in plain Aurebesh letters.</p>
<p>  <b>Today is Primeday, the sixth of Firstmonth.</b></p>
<p>Fox wants to vomit.</p>
<p>He’s lost a week. A fucking week, poof, gone, <i>nothing</i>! He’s cracking under the pressure, he has to be. He gets up from his desk, intent on taking his ass straight to medical, when a terrible thought worms it’s way into his head.</p>
<p>What if they decommission him?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>CC-1010 | Fox/Quinlan Vos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>514</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Time Is a Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This chapter is for the day one prompt of Commander Fox Week 2020 - mind control. Chapter two will come out on day two, fulfilling the second prompt - high-speed chase, and the epilogue will come out on day three for the prompt cuddles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Galactic Standard Week is 5 days long. Primeday, Centaxday, Taungsday Zhellday, and Benduday is the order. There are 7 weeks in a standard month, totaling 35 days. There are 10 months, plus some extra weeks and days, in a year. This goes against current canon, but disney canon doesn't have a fully fleshed out system with named days of the week, so I do what I want.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It starts off small, until it isn't.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thorn… what day is it?” Fox asks, scrolling through his datapad. He thought he’d had an appointment with the Chancellor, but can’t find it anywhere on his schedule. He must have gotten the days mixed up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Taungsday,” Thorn answers. Fox frowns.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I could have sworn it was Centaxday. Thanks,” Fox mumbles. Thorn nods, and that’s that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At least, until the next time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fox is sitting at his desk a week later, filling out a dataform on his pad about the latest Senate security fiasco, when he gets to the date field. He inputs Taungsday, but hesitates. He pulls up the calendar app, and finds that it isn’t Taungsday, it’s <em> Benduday </em> . He can’t remember anything about the last two days, would have sworn up and down it’s Taungsday, but he’s obviously wrong. He pinches his brow. Fox <em> knows </em> he’s sleep deprived. Hells, that’s his baseline now. Scalpel is always on his case about the negative effects of long term sleep deprivation, but he always waved them off. He sighs, shakes his head, and concedes to calling it an early night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s just tired, that’s all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fox sleeps ten hours, longer than he has in his entire life (not counting medical comas) and wakes up on Primeday feeling like a new man. There’s a pep to his step as he goes about his duties. He backs up Vos on a sting operation, exchanges greetings with Senator Amidala, and is more productive than he has been in months. That night, he falls asleep with a smile on his face, and rises with the sun.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sits down at his desk with a piping hot mug of caf, ready to tackle some paperwork, when Thire knocks on the door. His helmet is shined to a gleam for once, and he’s in full kit. He cocks his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you forget we’re doing inspections today?” Thire asks with a teasing voice. Fox frowns.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s Centaxday,” Fox says slowly. Thire takes his helmet off. He has a bemused look on his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You must have one hell of a hangover, because it’s Bendusday.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fox goes cold. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d gotten sleep. He feels better than he has in years. He… he can’t remember the last three days. They’re a <em> blank </em>. He didn’t even know he was missing them, and still can’t parse out where he just… stopped remembering. If not for the irrevocable evidence of Thire actually cleaning his helmet for once, which he drags his feet about unless it’s an inspection day, Fox would accuse him of pulling his leg. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fox takes all of this, shoves it in a box, and throws the box away to deal with later. He gets up, kits out, and does his job. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>If it happens again, then it’s something to worry about.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He doesn’t miss time for a while, or if he does, it’s in increments so small that he doesn’t notice. Well, he doesn’t <em> think </em> he misses time. Who knows, really?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As the first year of the war comes to a close, Fox falls back into the monotony of being the Head of Guard, which is to say that he loses sleep over a bombing plot, saves three senators, and helps apprehend a purse-snatcher when cruising at 79’s, all within a week. After getting the man down to a holding cell, he’s writing up the detainment report when he’d rather be drunk off his face and in someone else’s bed. It's the New Year, for kark’s sake. He doubts Stone had his plans ruined by a petty thief. No rest for the wicked, Fox supposes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He types in the date. Primeday, the first of Firstmonth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then he pauses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He checks the day on his datapad and smiles. Primeday, it reads. He almost doesn’t notice the second bit, written out in plain Aurebesh letters. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Today is Primeday, the sixth of Firstmonth.</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fox wants to vomit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s lost a week. A fucking week, poof, gone, <em> nothing! </em> He’s cracking under the pressure, he has to be. He gets up from his desk, intent on taking his ass straight to medical, when a terrible thought worms it’s way into his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What if they decommission him?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Who will watch Stone’s back, keep Thire out of trouble, talk down Thorn on one of the bad nights? Who will make sure the shinies watch their tongues around the venomous senators who think of them as less than dirt? Who will keep <em> them </em> from being decommissioned?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nobody, that’s who. Fox got his job because he’s the best of the best, and the only reason he’s on top is out of pure willpower. He’s protected his brothers since he was decanted. His brothers need him, and now so does the Republic. It’s a thankless job, but he has no illusions about the necessity of his work. Fox sits back down and threads his hands through his hair, yanking on the black and grey strands, trying to ground himself. He can’t go to medical. He’s already too far gone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’ll just have to keep carrying on. His brothers haven’t noticed anything different, so if it’s dissociation it’s a mild form. Fox’s mind goes to brain tumors, and he shudders. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hopes it’s dissociation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fox goes to bed alone that night, as he should. It’s not a holiday, there’s no reason to rejoice in the arms of another. He shouldn’t have been out clubbing in the first place. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wakes up tired. Physically, emotionally, spirtually - he’s exhausted. When he turns on his datapad, all he can do is laugh to keep from crying.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong> Welcome back, CC-1010. </strong>
</p>
<p><strong>Today is Benduday, the tenth of Thirdmonth</strong>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s going <em> mad. </em>Two whole months - gone. Fox tries to pull himself together, to keep the stress from bleeding through the cracks. He needs to focus on something monotonous, something normal so he doesn’t erupt into tears. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He checks his agenda, written by a version of himself that might as well be a stranger. He has an appointment with the Chancellor in twenty minutes, the first one in… he can’t remember. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He can’t remember seeing Chancellor Palpatine in months.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fox feels a rock form in his gut. There was no rhyme or reason to the gaps, nothing that he’s been able to put his finger on up until now. The thread may be tenuous, but it’s there. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It doesn’t make <em> sense </em>, but neither does missing large chunks of time around one specific person.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He takes out a piece of paper from his desk, too paranoid to put it on a datapad, or even flimsi. His hands shake.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> If you can’t remember writing this, then keep this note. You </em> <span class="u"> <em> can’t remember Palpatine. </em> </span> <em> Feels like you haven’t seen him in months. Investigate further, but BE CAREFUL. 6.3.3632 </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fox folds the note and places it underneath a stack of flimsi, with only the corner sticking out. He’s a neat freak, and if he’s… himself, during the gaps, then he’ll find it. Fox takes a deep breath, centering himself. He can’t tip his hand, not yet. <em> If </em> Palpatine is linked with his missing memories, then he can’t know Fox is catching on. Fox gets up and walks to the-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fox sits down, drained. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like there’s a millstone around his neck. His head hurts. He’s about to lean his head on his desk when he notices something. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>There’s a wad of papers, hidden among the flimsi. He doesn’t use paper.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fox pulls out the notes. Fox reads the notes. Fox goes pale.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> If you can’t remember writing this, then keep this note. You </em> <span class="u"> <em> can’t remember Palpatine </em> </span> <em> . Feels like you haven’t seen him in months. Investigate further, but BE CAREFUL. 6.3.3632 </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> I can’t remember writing this. Will investigate. 8.6.3632 </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Sliced into his office. Palpatine makes frequent holocalls to terminals located in Seperatist Space, despite the Senate’s moratorium on contacting the enemy. Bad business. Will attempt to get access to holoterminal records, if he doesn’t wipe them. 2.10.3632 </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> It’s fucking bad. It goes all the way to the top. He contacted Dooku. He’s constructed the whole war. I saw the security footage myself. As soon as you read this, CONTACT VOS. Tell him to meet you for a date. Give him the enclosed datachip. Has security footage and contingency plans for chips inside our fucking heads that can make us kill the Jedi. Time is running out, I have a meeting with the Chancellor in a few minutes, and things are too hot right now to risk contacting Vos yet. I know Palpatine is watching closely. I keep losing more and more time. 17.5.3633</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The end of the note is so frantic it’s nearly illegible. A datachip slides out from the folded note and clinks on his desk. Fox stares at it for a long moment. He doesn’t… he doesn’t understand. The whole time, he’d been a slave to the very man his brothers were unwittingly fighting against. He lets out a breath, tries to calm himself, tries to keep from screaming. Fox wants to yell, to flip his desk, to march up right now and put a bolt between Palpatine’s eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He does none of this. Instead, he tucks the note in his pocket and makes a call.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Commander? I… hello. I have to admit, I didn’t really expect you to call when I slipped my number in your blacks a while back. How… uh, how are you?” Quinlan Vos asks, scratching the back of his neck. His awkwardness goes a long way to put Fox at ease. Right now, Vos is a far cry from his usual suave self.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello, Vos. You alone?” he asks, making sure to smirk. Vos smiles, getting a little bit of that charm back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why do you ask? Did you want to take me up on my proposition?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fox licks his lips. Usually, he wouldn’t layer it on this thick, and he… he genuinely likes Vos, but he needs to make sure the Jedi takes the bait - hook, line, and sinker. Vos is attractive, yes, but he's also funny, and competent as hell at his job. If Fox weren’t currently an amnesiac embroiled in a government conspiracy, he’d like to take him up on his offer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As it is now, he doubts he’ll live long enough.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You mean your proposition to ‘call you if I want to walk funny for a week’? Yeah, if you’re still interested.” Fox says. Vos gives a sharp grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let me take you out to dinner at least, before anything else. I haven’t seen you in months,” Vos says, eagerness in his voice. Something warm lights up in Fox’s chest, which he firmly stomps on. Fox is <em> not </em> going to catch feelings while involved in something that will likely kill him. He doesn’t have the time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, Quinlan,” Fox says, slipping and calling him by his first name. Vos beams at him through the holocall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ever been to Dex’s Diner?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fox scours his (terribly spotty) memory before nodding. Dex was an information dealer, Fox had worked with him once on a sting. He nods.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Great! Meet you there after you get off shift?” he asks, and Fox narrows his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How do you know when I get off shift?” Fox asks, and Vos has the audacity to wink.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See you then. Wear some civvies, Commander,” Vos says, before ending the call. Fox sighs. He supposes that’s what he gets for romancing a Jedi Shadow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As soon as his shift ends, he throws on some civvies, a hip holster, and a leather jacket and then he’s out the door, chip tucked safely in a pocket right over his heart. The drive is quick, and Fox almost laments wasting money on a taxi if it didn’t mean getting the info into the right hands quicker. When he steps out of the speeder, Vos is waiting for him. He cleans up nice out of his usual robes, and Fox would almost feel underdressed if they weren’t going to a greasy spoon. Vos walks over and immediately goes for the hug. Fox returns it, and stiffens when Vos draws his lips to his ear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you being followed?” Vos asks in a low voice. He catches on quick. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Fox replies, and then they’re parting, Vos offering him his arm, which Fox gladly takes. He hasn’t had human contact that he can remember since his last fling, which was… ancient history, at this point.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dex greets Vos by name, and Vos asks for some blue milk pancakes, meaning they want a booth with jammers. Dex leads them over, turns their jammers on, and then leaves them. Fox relaxes slightly. He’s so close to suceeding, he just has to convince the Jedi to help him. Vos turns to him and smiles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What in the sweet Force is wrong with your head?” Vos asks, never dropping his smile, and it’s so absurd that Fox laughs. He struggles to stop, and there are definitely some tears that he does his best to wipe away, but he keeps his cool. Barely. There’s a flash of concern in Vos’s face, but he keeps up the appearance of a lovestruck fool.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wish I fucking knew, Quinlan, I wish I fucking knew. Am I that obvious?” Fox asks, concerned for his chances against Palpatine if Vos can pick up on it. Vos shakes his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Remember how I told you about my psychometry?” he asks, and Fox nods.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, it can extend to people. Not a lot, just bits and pieces, emotions mostly. I usually don’t read people, but you seemed… off in the holocall. You looked half dead, and you feel like a mess,” Vos says, reaching across the table to grab Fox’s hand. He allows it, and laces their fingers together. Fox gives a wry grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You really know how to make a guy feel special, huh?” He teases, before his face becomes more serious. He hesitates before telling him, but only for a moment. He can trust Vos.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It started small. I thought it was Centaxday, when it was actually Taungsday. Then I was missing two, three, four days. Weeks. Now it’s up to months. And I don’t even know what I’m missing.” Fox says, and Quinlan squeezes his hands. He doesn’t appear pained, that would break up their little charade, but Fox gets the impression that he feels for him deeply.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I… thought I was cracking up. Then I realized, all of my gaps started when I… when I had a meeting with the Chancellor,” he says, and watches Vos's gaze go sharp.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So I started digging. I don’t… I don’t remember <em> any </em> of it. It’s gone. Today, I found a note from myself at my desk. It says I found proof of him personally contacting Dooku, and that he’s the orchestrator of this whole fucking war, from both sides,” Fox says, voice lowering even though he knows they have jammers. He digs the note out and slides it across the table. Vos touches it and appears blindsided. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord,” Vos breathes, and Fox nods, certain of it. The Jedi tucks the note into his pocket.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And that’s not all. There’s… there’s these fucking <em> chips </em>. They’re in our heads, all of the vode. They have contingency orders, orders that shouldn’t be on the regs. With one command, he could get the entire GAR to kill their Jedi.” Fox says, squeezing Vos’s hand so tight he’s surprised the man doesn’t pull away. Vos just stares at him. Fox disentangles their hands, and as discretely as possible, adjusts his jacket and slips his hand inside to grap the chip. He re-links their hands, pressing it into Vos's palm. He meets the man’s gaze.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is everything. I don’t know what’s on here, but it’s as good as I can get. I… I’m too close, I’m already living on borrowed time. You’re the only person I can trust, Quinlan. Please, I don’t care if I make it out, but my brothers deserve more than to be the pawns of a madman.” Fox says, and Quinlan squeezes his hand before slipping the chip into his own pocket. He doesn’t break eye contact.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I care if you make it out. So do your brothers. I promise you, Fox, I’ll get this to the right people. You’ve… you’ve done what the entire Order has been unable to do - you saw through the Sith. The war will end over this. And I want to kiss you <em> senseless </em> for that.” Quinlan says, and Fox gives a shaky laugh. Really, he’s a mess, but Quinlan doesn’t seem to care.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know, my offer still stands. It’s… I’ve been alone, for a long time," Fox says, and Quinlan stands up before offering his arm to Fox. There’s a playful smile on his face, one that makes Fox’s chest go warm again. They leave Dex’s behind them as they walk around CoCo Town.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It's getting late enough that the Council probably isn't in session. We can rent a sleezy hotel room and spend the night together. You don’t have to be alone anymore, Fox,” Quinlan says, and Fox can’t help it, he fists a hand in Quinlan's shirt, pushes him up against the nearest vertical surface, and kisses him hard. Quinlan grins into the kiss like a tooka that got the cream.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hang the GAR, hang the Jedi, hang all of Coruscant - right now, Fox wants Quinlan to <em>ruin</em> him. It’s his last wish.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They part, and Quinlan is still grinning like an idiot. So is Fox.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I’d like that, Quin.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. In Which We Are All Lost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The walk back is just long enough for him to get wrapped up in his head. What if he forgot something important Palpatine did? What if he was already onto him, and Fox needlessly dragged Quinlan into his mess? What if none of it matters, and there isn’t anything of substance on the chip?</p><p> </p><p>He’s so absorbed in his worrying that he hardly registers entering the building. He’s trying to unlock his office door when he realizes it’s already unlocked and freely swings open.</p><p> </p><p>He remembers locking it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Blood, injury.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Leaving is hard. Fox can’t decide whether to wake Quinlan, or to let the man sleep. He slings his jacket over his shoulder and sighs, looking back. Quinlan is a mess of limbs, all tangled up in the blankets. Hickies grace his broad, brown chest, and Fox smiles at the sight. He walks over to the bed and sits next to his… his Vos. He nudges him gently on the shoulder. Quinlan stirs, letting out a grumble.</p><p> </p><p>“Quin, I’m headed out,” he says, and Quinlan is suddenly a little more alert. He blinks his brown eyes at Fox and grabs onto his wrist before he can get up.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait,” Quinlan rasps in his morning voice, sending shivers down Fox’s spine. Quinlan sits up, blankets pooling around his waist, and leans his forehead against Fox’s own. Fox leans into the kov’nyn, enjoying the trust implicit in the gesture. He opens his eyes for a moment and finds Quinlan studying him. Fox flushes pink. Quinlan guides their lips together. His lips are soft and warm, and though the chaste kiss lingers, it feels… different than the passion of last night. More impactful, almost. When they part, Fox is smiling. Quinlan runs a hand through his short hair, making him shiver.</p><p> </p><p>“Promise me you’ll check in?” Quinlin asks, and Fox looks away.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t make promises I can’t keep. I don’t know if I’ll remember. I don’t even know if I’ll remember this,” he admits, and the look on Quinlan’s face is so sad that Fox has to say something. “I don’t regret it. You’re a good man, Quinlan, one I’d like to get to know better, but… I don’t know if I’ll be alive this time next week. Not when he’s in my head like this.”</p><p> </p><p>Quinlan sets his jaw.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to the Council right away. The Senate won’t care that Palpatine is a Sith, but they will care that he’s playing both sides. We’ll present a united front against the Chancellor. You’re almost out. You’ll know when we have him, and as soon as we do, I’ll comm you. You just have to keep your head down a couple more days, alright? I expect a second date,” Quinlan tells him, and it’s with so much surety that Fox lets himself hope, he allows himself that much. Fox nods and stands, still needing to go back to his office and change into uniform before his shift starts. Quinlan’s eyes follow him to the door, and compel him to pause and look back at the Jedi.</p><p> </p><p>“Good luck, Quinlan. I can’t thank you enough. May the Force be with you,” Fox says.</p><p> </p><p>“K’oyacyi,” Quinlan replies in heavily accent Mando’a, bringing a smile to Fox’s face as he closes the door.</p><p> </p><p>The walk back is just long enough for Fox to get wrapped up in his head. What if he forgot something important Palpatine did? What if he was already onto him, and Fox needlessly dragged Quinlan into his mess? What if none of it matters, and there isn’t anything of substance on the chip?</p><p> </p><p>He’s so absorbed in his worrying that he hardly registers entering the building. He’s trying to unlock his office door when he realizes it’s already unlocked and watches it freely swing open.</p><p> </p><p>He remembers locking it.</p><p> </p><p>There, sitting in his chair at his desk, is the Chancellor of the Republic, wearing a beatific smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, Commander Fox. Do come in,” he says, and Fox finds himself complying against his will, like a puppet on a string. The room is so cold, Fox is surprised he can't see his own breath. Spread out on the desk in front of him is the evidence of his sedition - the notes, all neat and straight in a line. Fox doesn’t pale, but he does close his eyes for a moment, centering himself and <em> finally </em> raising his shields like Jango had taught him to all those years ago. He feels slightly more in control of himself. Fox opens his eyes and meets Palpatine’s gaze. His smile hasn’t wavered. Fox waits for him to speak first.</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here, yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. I know exactly why you’re here. You’re here to kill me.” He replies blandly, and something dark flashes in the Chancellor’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, no, my dear Commander, that would be far too easy. I’m going to break you first, for crossing me. I do have a proposition for you, though. Tell me what tipped you off, and I will make sure your end is quick,” Palpatine says in a soft tone, as if he’s discussing the weather. Fox pauses. He might be able to ask a question in turn - just what exactly had he done to his head? - but he dismisses the thought as inconsequential. He doesn’t need to know, and like hell is he making things easy for the bastard.</p><p> </p><p>“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll pass, thank yo-” Fox cuts off as a vice grip closes around his throat, cutting off the blood supply to his brain. He coughs and claws at his neck, but there’s nothing there. He's going to die, strangled to death in his own office. His last coherent throughts among the panic are that he hopes Quinlan doean't face the same fate. The whole time, Palpatine is still sitting there, smiling. </p><p> </p><p>Just when the room starts to go black, Palpatine lets up, leaving Fox gasping for air on his hands and knees. He looks up at the Sith Lord towering over him, noting that he’s gotten up and swept the papers into his grasp, tucking them inside his robes. </p><p> </p><p>“We’ll do this the <em> hard </em> way, then. No matter, I will enjoy the chase.” </p><p> </p><p>“The chase?” Fox gasps, and Palpatine grins, sallow skin stretching over gaunt bones. His eyes glow, and Fox knows it isn’t a trick of the light.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, naturally it is the job of the Guards to uphold peace. After you try to assassinate me, of course they will set after the clone responsible, like a pack of mad strill. You will be hunted down and shot in the street by your own brothers. If you try and inform them of my identity, they will suffer the same fate,” Palpatine says, to Fox’s utter horror. </p><p> </p><p>“No,” Fox mutters, and Palpatine’s smile widens, exposing his teeth.</p><p> </p><p>“Get up, clone,” he commands.</p><p> </p><p>Fox’s body obeys even as his mind rebels, and he stands at attention in front of the monster he used to serve.</p><p> </p><p>“Draw your weapon.”</p><p> </p><p>Fox fights, arm trembling, as he slowly places a hand on his hip, grabbing his blaster. It shakes in his grip.</p><p> </p><p>“Shoot me in the arm.”</p><p> </p><p>Before Fox can even think to push back, Palpatine is bending him to his will, hot agony bursting behind his eyes as something <em> snaps </em> in his head. He pulls the trigger. He’s frozen until the door busts open. It’s Thorn, blaster drawn, and he’s staring at Fox in shock as the Chancellor cries out.</p><p> </p><p>“Treason! Kill the traitor!” he wails. Thorn pulls the trigger, and pain explodes in his gut. Fox doesn’t wait around to explain the unexplainable, he shoots out his office window and throws himself through it, hitting the duracrete with a roll before he’s up and running. He staggers towards a running speeder, dodging shots from his nearby brothers all the while.</p><p> </p><p>He’s been shot. He can’t focus on it, instead hoping in the speeder, intent on piloting it anywhere but here. He does his best to ignore the agony. Pain is good, it means he’s alive. </p><p> </p><p>As soon as he’s away from the curb, he puts her into a nosedive, knowing that the only hope he has is down. He flies down tens of levels, but he hears sirens in the distance and turns around to see a Guard after him. He curses. He won’t allow him to catch up, he won’t make a murderer of his brother. Whoever takes him down is likely to eat their gun after the news breaks about Palpatine. </p><p> </p><p>Forget safety, he’s a dead man anyways. He takes a breath and tells himself that if he dies, it’s better than being caught.</p><p> </p><p>Fox whips into a suicidal turn, the world flashing past in a naseauting blur. He loses his tail. He takes the speeder down further, plunging past traffic at hundreds of klicks an hour. Fox laughs through the pain. </p><p> </p><p>It’s the most alive he’s felt since taking this damn job. </p><p> </p><p>Up ahead is a ventilation shaft, and he guns it. Right as he goes over the edge, he hugs the wall, missing an ascending starship by a hair. He continues to zip down, fighting to keep her stable, nearly falling out of his seat into the abyss below. Finally, he thinks he’s far enough and eases off the gas, doing a stomach-churning flip to gracelessly enter one of the lower levels. It’s pretty far down - the low thousands, and nobody spares him a second glance as he glides through the broken streets past decrepit old buildings. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, when the pain becomes so bad he’s gritting his teeth, he looks down. His stomach is a bloody mess, and he grimaces. Gut wounds are a slow death, and he is going to die without a bacta tank. He pulls into an alleyway and fumbles around in the glovebox for something to stem the bleeding. All he comes up with is a grease cloth for shining the speeder and some rope, but it will have to do.</p><p> </p><p>Fox can’t stop the involuntary cry as he presses the cloth to his wound and lashes it to his body. If he can’t staunch the bleeding, it’ll be a trail as subtle as a speeder crash.</p><p> </p><p>Fox clambers out of the speeder and begins to walk, pulling his jacket tighter around himself to cover his wound. Every footfall causes a bloom of pain in his abdominal region, and he bites his tongue bloody to keep from groaning in agony.</p><p> </p><p>The streets are mostly filled with garbage, but here and there are stalls where junk venders are peddling their wares in the noonday gloom of the underlevels. Fox studies each, but dismisses each of them as too shady to risk it. Finally, he comes across an elderly Miraluka woman selling discarded medical supplies. He’s so faint at this point that he doesn’t care if she double crosses him, he just needs something to dull the pain. She turns her blindfolded, wrinkled face towards him, as if she can feel his presence. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you trade?” he asks, and the woman frowns.</p><p> </p><p>“I can sense you are gravely injured, friend. I will trade with you,” she says, and he leans on her booth with relief.</p><p> </p><p>“I stole a speeder from the upper levels, it’s near new and about a five minute’s walk towards the shaft.” he tells her, and she nods before motioning him closer. He walks towards her, and she immediately prods at the blaster wound, causing him to gasp.</p><p> </p><p>“Your life force is draining away. You’re dying,” she says, and he sighs. He knew it was happening, but it still isn’t pleasant to have the confirmation.</p><p> </p><p>“It was worth it. I just need to survive a little longer. I want to see him fall,” Fox says, and the woman smiles before turning and retrieving several items from her wares.</p><p> </p><p>“You will get your wish, of that I am certain,” she says, and he smiles as she jams a stim into his arm. He feels the icy drug enter his system and give him a jolt, and he stands up a little taller. She pulls a very small container out from her robe. It’s bacta. How she came across it this far down, he’ll never know.</p><p> </p><p>“Ma’am, I can’t. That bacta is expen-” she smacks him in the arm, frowning.</p><p> </p><p>“I will find more. The Force will provide. You, however, need this more than me or any of my other customers. Take it, <em> shikilay </em>,” she says, and he gets the impression that she just insulted him in Miralukese. He sighs and takes the pot, opening it and peeling back his bandages to smooth the bacta over his wounds. It’s unsanitary, likely expired, and not nearly enough, but gods does it help. He’s about to re-tie his makeshift bandages when the woman gives him some ratty compression bandages without a word. He feels a smile come to his face. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll never be able to repay your kindness,” he informs her, and she waves him off.</p><p> </p><p>“Your speeder is more than enough. And call me Trinai,” she says, and he nods.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Trinai. Call me Fox. I… should be going. The Coruscant Guard are after me. If they ask you about me, say I held you at gunpoint.” he says, and she frowns.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m no snitch, Fox. They will not get a word from my lips,” she says, and he smiles. </p><p> </p><p>“Goodbye, Trinai,” he says, and then he’s on his way.</p><p> </p><p>His stomach is still painful, but it’s at the level where he can ignore it enough to walk somewhat normally. Blood continues to steadily trickle down his legs, letting him know that he's on borrowed time and to not to overdo it. The sign in the distance advertises a lift to the lower levels, which he steers himself towards. He has to keep going down. He passes some rough-looking thugs, but placing a hand on his blaster is all he needs to dissuade them.</p><p> </p><p>The lift is terrifying. It’s a rusty metal cage that looks like it’s right out of a holohorror. He sighs and gets in, ignoring how the cage shakes as he does. He gets a feeling not a lot of people go any lower than this. He doesn’t really want to, but it’s the only place he knows he can disappear. Fox just has to hold on long enough to see Palpatine ousted, and he can die happy.</p><p> </p><p>Well, as happy as he can get in the dark underbelly of Coruscant.</p><p> </p><p>The lift is surprisingly fast for a deathtrap, and he watches the dim lights of each floor blur past, lowering himself to the floor. He doesn’t know when he stops, only that he waits for so long he doubts anyone will be on the level. Anyone alive, at least.</p><p> </p><p>He stumbles out of the carriage and is left looking at heaps and heaps of garbage. It absolutely reeks, but he does his best to ignore it. In the distance, there’s a lone standing structure among the trash and rubble, a lean-to of sorts, long abandoned. He heads towards it, out of ideas. It’s barely a shack, but it’s shelter, which is all he cares about. He’s running on fumes.</p><p> </p><p>When he walks in, he finds it empty. Fox sighs with relief and collapses next to the window, wheezing in pain as he does. The stim has started to wear off already, likely less potent due to being expired. No matter. Fox digs into his pocket, trying to take stock on if he has any ration bars, when his fingers close around his comm. He freezes. They can track him through it. They’ve undoubtedly already done so and are closing in on his location. </p><p> </p><p>He’s tired. He can’t run anymore. </p><p> </p><p>He pulls it out and stares at it. There’s five missed calls. He dials up Quinlan, at least wanting to know if they succeeded. Quinlan picks up almost immediately. There’s blood on his cheek and a grin on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Fox! You’re alive! You're in the lower levels, right?” Quinlan asks, and Fox smiles. He’d already been tracking him too.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Did… did we get him?” Fox asks, hoping that his death won’t be for nothing.</p><p> </p><p>“I'm headed your way now. He’s dead, he was already injured when Obi-Wan and I found him. The whole duel was on security footage. We did it, thanks to you!” Quinlan says, grinning, and Fox laughs with relief. It turns into a choked gasp at the pain. Quinlan’s eyes go wide.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re hurt.”</p><p> </p><p>Fox debates whether or not to tell him. Staring into those eyes, he realizes he can’t justify lying and letting Quin find his corpse.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m shot. The Chancellor framed me for treason, forced me to shoot him in the arm. Thorn saw, and I had to run. I forgot about my comm, so they’re likely closing in on my location now. I'm in a bad way... I don't have much time left.”</p><p> </p><p>Quinlan shakes his head, scowling.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m almost there. I’ll get there and explain everything to the Guards, I promise you. Everything will be fine,” Quinlan says, sounding more like he's trying to convince himself. Fox shakes his head, feeling dizzy. In the distance, he hears the lift clang. Someone’s coming, and he doubts it’s Quinlan.</p><p> </p><p>“I hear someone, I need to go. Quin… I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. Thank you, for everything. Goodbye.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, don’t you dare-” Fox cuts the call, placing his comm on the ground next to him, along with his gun. He laces his hands behind his head despite the pain, hoping that doing so will keep them from shooting on sight. He doesn’t want that on their conscience.</p><p> </p><p>He can hear quiet footfalls as he strains his ears against the silence. There’s only one pair. Once they stop outside of the door, he closes his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m unarmed!” he shouts. The effort makes his stomach ache, and he can slowly feel blood pool around him on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“Come out with your hands up!” Thorn shouts. Fox grits his teeth. Of course it would be Thorn, he’s the one who witnessed it.</p><p> </p><p>Fox pushes himself up, tries to get to his feet, only to collapse with a cry of pain.</p><p> </p><p>“F...Fox?” Thorn asks, conflict warring in his voice. Fox takes a minute to answer, trying to swallow back the bile from the pain.</p><p> </p><p>“I… I can’t. I can’t stand,” he replies, and Thorn immediately kicks in the door, throwing it off its hinges and staring at him before shakily leveling his DC-15 rifle at Fox’s skull. Fox studies his brother from where he’s hunched over in a pool of his own blood. Thorn isn’t wearing a helmet, which explains why he wasn’t in contact with the rest of the Guard, which was likely in chaos with the Chancellor's death. His hands subtly quiver and his eyes are wild with fear.</p><p> </p><p>“He… he ordered me to shoot on sight. I… I can’t remember anything besides that. Fox’ika… what happened? Why did you do it?” Thorn asks, voice cracking. Fox feels rage at the thought that Palpatine touched his brother, that he got his hands inside of his head just like he did to Fox. Maybe the spell was broken when Palpatine died, but Thorn is still stuck in the aftermath.</p><p> </p><p>Fox shifts, and Thorn flinches, finger touching the trigger. Fox freezes.</p><p> </p><p>“Palpatine was in your head, vod. He was in mine, too,” Fox placates. Thorn shakes his head.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> How? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Fox meets his brother’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Because he was the Sith Lord.”</p><p> </p><p>Thorn’s eyes go wide.</p><p> </p><p>“No. No, he <em> can’t </em> be. He… wait. Was. You said… <em> was </em>,” Thorn gets out, appearing panicked. Fox curses himself. He stares at his brother. </p><p> </p><p>“Palpatine’s dead. The Jed-”</p><p> </p><p>“No! You killed him!” Thorn says in a voice so broken that Fox would hug his brother if he could stand. He shakes his head, but Thorn isn’t paying attention, simply muttering ‘no’ under his breath repeatedly. Fox’s heart aches with how messed up his brother is. Was Fox like this? More importantly, were they? Did he not notice that Palpatine has his claws in the rest of the Guard as well?</p><p> </p><p>Thorn turns to him and raises his gun, only to drop it a moment later. Finally, he seems to grasp some sort of pained determination and raises his rifle. Fox closes his eyes, not wanting his brother to have to look him in the eyes when he pulls the trigger. He hears the blaster fire and waits for death.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t come. The bolt goes wide.</p><p> </p><p>“FOX!” Quinlan cries, and then he’s there in front of him, Thorn standing bewildered to the side, blaster barrel smoking. Fox gives a weak smile. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Quin. Just in time.”</p><p> </p><p>“What…” Thorn pipes up from behind them, and Quinlan turns, shielding Fox with his body.</p><p> </p><p>“Stand down,” Quinlan says, voice so laced with compulsion that even Fox wants to follow it. Thorn blinks, dropping his rifle. </p><p> </p><p>“What… what have I done?” Thorn asks, horrified, but Quinlan ignores him.</p><p> </p><p>“Where are you- oh, fuck.” Quinlan says, catching a look at the blood on the floor. Fox smiles.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to make it to our date,” Fox croaks. Quinlan shakes his head, pressing down on Fox's wound and taking his breath away.</p><p> </p><p>“Call for help!” Quinlan barks to Thorn before turning back and cupping Fox’s face with a bloody hand.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, no, you don’t get to die on me, not after saving the galaxy! We... we have a date,” Quinlan says, and Fox reaches up and retrieves his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. Quinlan goes back to try and pointlessly staunch the blood flow. Fox's legs and hands are going cold, but he doesn’t want to worry Quinlan.</p><p> </p><p>“Tomorrow, then. I’ll take you out dancing to 79’s,” Fox says, tears in his eyes, and Quinlan nods.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s… it’s a date, then. If you stand me up, I’ll kick your ass.” Quinlan says, and Fox laughs even though it hurts.</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t… dream of it, Quin. I,” he shudders, going even colder. “I don’t want to die,” he admits, voice cracking. He’s tried to accept it, but at the end of the day, he’s scared. He’s always been willing to sacrifice his life for the greater good, but that doesn’t make it any easier, Quinlan shakes his head.</p><p> </p><p>“You aren’t gonna die. You’re gonna be just fine, sweetheart,” he tells Fox, and Fox smiles before closing his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank- Thank you for being there… being there for me. You saved my brothers,” Fox says, grateful. He has no idea what they’ll do after the war ends, but he hopes they have good lives. He feels himself falling, almost as if he was back in the speeder.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, hey, keep your eyes on me. And <em> you </em> saved your brothers” Quinlan says. Fox shakes his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Tired,” is all he can manage, and Quinlan holds him close.</p><p> </p><p>“Please, Fox, stay with me. Hold on just a little longer, help in on the way.” Fox hears from far away. He’s freezing now, and can’t stop shaking. Time feels like it's stretching out in a tense line, about to snap. He opens his eyes one last time to look at Quinlan, and he smiles.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad I met you,” he says, before closing his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“No, don’t you <em> fucking dare </em> die on me. Fox… Fox! You… awake… <em> please </em>!” Fox hears snatches of Quinlan’s pleas before he lets the dark swallow him whole.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Mando'a Translations:<br/>Kov'nyn - A Keldabe Kiss, aka a headbutt. Can be used to kick ass or to show affection.<br/>K’oyacyi - Stay alive</p><p>This is my first time writing for this pair, and I absolutely loved it. Uh, sorry for the cliffhanger! :P</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fox’s first thought is that being one with the Manda looks a lot like a being in a hospital room. His second thought, of course, is that he survived.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Fox’s first thought is that being one with the Manda looks a lot like a being in a hospital room. His second thought, of course, is that he survived.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It must be late in the cycle, or perhaps early, because the lights are dimmed. In the half-light, he can still make out the form of Quinlan Vos in the chair next to his bed. He swears he goes tingly from the top of his head to the tips of his toes at the thought that Quinlan cared enough to sit in with him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quinlan’s Jedi senses must go off as Fox wakes up, because pretty soon his eyes flutter open. Fox has never seen him smile as wide as he does - it takes years off of his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re awake!” Quinlan says, and moves to go and sit on the bed, gently taking Fox’s hands in his own.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Apparently. How long was I out?” Fox asks. Quinlan squeezes his hands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A week. They kept you sedated in the tank, you were in there for three days.” Quinlan says, and Fox is just grateful he hasn’t lost more time. Hopefully, he’ll never experience that again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know what was wrong with my head? I still can’t remember what I’m missing.” Fox says, and Quinlan’s lips purse.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He destroyed your memories. I’m surprised you were able to understand what was going on at all. Your psyche was barely holding together,” he says, and Fox tightens his grip, remembering the look of terror in his brother's eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What about Thorn? Is he-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s seeing the temple mindhealers, something you should do as well after recovering. Palpatine only messed with him when he framed you, and he’s doing well. He blames himself.” Quinlan says, and Fox frowns.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“None of it was his fault. For all I know, Palpatine could have used me in the exact same way,” Fox says. Quinlan nods. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You should tell him that. Him, Stone, and Thire have been helping me keep watch. We didn’t want you to wake up alone, and none of us particularly wanted you out of our sights,” Quinlan admits, and Fox blushes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m sorry I missed our date,” he says, and Quinlan gives him a fond smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Considering you missed it due to wounds acquired while saving the galaxy, I think I can forgive you. We can go to 79’s as soon as you’re cleared.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fox frowns. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You said that before, that I saved the galaxy. Really, it wasn’t that big of a deal-”</span>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
  
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“The war ended two days ago.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fox stares at him, letting that sink in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” he asks, voice quiet. He can’t imagine life without the war.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Quinlan nods and squeezes his hands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really. All thanks to you. The Seperatist government wasn’t very happy to find out that they were being played, and their senate ousted Dooku, Grievous, and Gunray. Bail Organa, who we elected as the emergency Chancellor, extended the peace branch immediately. You and your brothers don’t have to fight anymore, and rumor is that Senators Amidala and Binks are working on a clone rights bill with the Chancellor,” Quinlan tells him, and all he can do is blink.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The war is over. The bloody mess he and his brothers were bred to handle has been cleaned up. They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>free</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fox sits up, uncaring of the twinge in his abdomen, and throws his arms around Quinlan’s neck, burying his head in his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Careful! You’re still healing,” Quinlan says, but Fox doesn’t care. He just holds onto Quinlan and lets himself go. Crying feels good, feels like an end to something, and Quinlan holds him through it, keeping him safe in his arms. Fox realizes he’s muttering sweet nothings in broken Mando’a, and he adores him all the more for it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s over,” he says to himself, and feels Quinlan nod.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s over. You’re a hero, Fox,” Quinlan tells him, and Fox squeezes him harder. His stomach twinges painfully, and Quinlan goes to pull away, but Fox won’t let him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, hold me,” he begs, and Quinlan stares at him before getting into bed next to him and wrapping his arms around Fox. They lay there together, entangled and warm, while Fox wipes away his last tears.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t know what the future holds, but he realizes that none of that matters as he burrows further into Quinlan’s chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He has his freedom, he has a date, and he has all the time in the galaxy.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(They don’t wait until he’s cleared to go dancing. Two days after he wakes up, Fox slowly waltzes around his room with Quinlan, hospital gown fluttering in his wake as fireworks go off in the distance. Neither of them are very good at it, but they’re together, and they have time to learn.)</p>
<p>Short, but sweet. Hope you liked it! Follow me on tumblr @/generalekenobi for sw content and writing updates.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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